You ARE incredibly careless. How do you think you ended up in Wonderland?

Hmph. Whatever. This is Gracey Liddell. He’s named after the Haunted Mansion’s owner Master Gracey. I chose genius and excitable (again, I know. But there is so little to choose from when they are babies.) I forget what his favorites are. Do they really matter? I don’t see the point of them besides being a conversation piece.

The trailer park wasn’t cool enough for these hot studs so I had to move them to a new lot.

Hot studs? Moar like ugly halfbreeds, amirite?

I’ll stop with the 1337 talk.

Anyways – Here is a picture in front of their not-so-humble abode for the last time. They don’t have to act like rednecks anymore…

It’s homeless living for you!

Yaaaay for new beginnings.

Alice: “Wat.”

Okay, I was lying. Did you really expect me to just plop a family with two small children on a plot of land and expect them to live? No? Well Alice did, and that’s all that matters. C:

Here’s a shot of their new house.

Note: I am not an architect. I also spent too much money on stuff for the inside, so they don’t have any windows. Oops.

House from bird’s-eye view.

I’m kind of disappointed with the ghost baby. Gracey acts exactly the same as a normal sim baby, except for when he cries – He makes ghostly wails as opposed to ear-splitting screams.

Okay – What’s up with the putting the baby on the ground nonsense? The Sims 2 way of throwing the baby up in the air was filled with much more awesome. This just looks awkward. Is the blanket glued to the baby’s head? Stapled? Oh God D:

Now I have two toddlers. Great. Two Terrible Twos. Just what I needed.

Speaking of terrible twos, I haven’t been showing many pictures of Brianna lately, so here is some Brianna love:

Isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?

NO

This shouldn’t be happening. I don’t want cute. I want horrifying.

Dammit.

Well, I guess we’ll see because it’s her birthday:

Oh, God. The light is blinding me. D:

pleasebeuglypleasebeugly

I hate my life.

Bri: *Giggles cutely and bats her beautiful long eyelashes.*

Shut up and go paint something. I don’t want to see your face.

Since Bri has the artistic trait I decided that she’ll be the one to paint the portraits since her painting skill will probably raise faster than the others’.

This is her first painting. I called it “Piece of Crap” because it literally looks like something that came out of my ass.

Uh… Reg, what’s wrong?

Reg: “I am…”

Reg: “WOLVERINE”

No, jk jk. He didn’t actually say that (but doesn’t it look like he is?) He was really expressing his feelings on the clogged toilet, which, for the record, isn’t at all new so I’m not sure why he is being such a drama queen.

Reg: “I can’t handle such amounts of stress. I just want to go back to the eternal bliss of having a tea party every day of my life.”

Don’t we all, Reg, don’t we all.

Meanwhile, Alice is scaring me:

What are you doing?

Alice: “Nothing that concerns you.”

This is my game. I created you. Your LIFE concerns me, now cough it up, bitch.

Alice: *Makes hacking noises as if trying to cough something up*

Smart ass.

It’s time to play can you find the baby!:

Did you find him yet?

Yeah, the blond hair kind of gives him away. /sigh

Anyways, the point of this picture: WHY IN HELL do toddlers feel the need to walk all over creation before they can be interacted with? Gracey has to crawl all the way to the backyard before he can be fed his bottle. It pisses me off (but that’s nothing new.)

Alice has got me worrying lately. She always looks like she’s up to something. Something terrible. Terrible for me.

I think Reginald suspects something’s up too. Doesn’t his face look like it’s full of concern?

Or maybe he’s just admiring himself because he snagged a hot wife.

Unfortunately I think it’s the latter.

And now it’s time for a Whine Fest:

Would you like some cheese, you guys?

Alright, enough with the whining. Alice and Reg both work night shifts now, so I’ve been forced to hire a babysitter. She doesn’t do anything but leave trash all over the goddamn house. See:

Trash.

Trash.

Trash.

Trash.

And I thought the Sims 2 nannies were bad. Gracey was in his crib wailing like a banshee, and yet she STILL continued to take stuff out of my fridge – wait, no. She’s not hungry. Going to take out the garbage? Hmmm, it looks better on the ground. Fucking slut.

Slut: “DON’T. CALL. ME. THAT.”

WELL, YOU DEFINITELY AREN’T WORTH $75.

Reg finally came home and she bolted out the door…

… And into the backyard. I think she lives there behind the trees because that’s where she disappeared to.

Great. Now I have a creepy slut living in my backyard who probably has a personal vendetta against me.

Story of my life.

And we’ll close this chapter with a picture of Reginald turning into an adult.

Next time:

– There won’t be a next time.

– Jk jk. I just don’t feel like writing these “next time” things out anymore. You’ll find out what happens next time next time.